As you have heard, Mrs. Helmsley left me a trust fund worth $12 million so you'll excuse me if it appears I'm not listening to anything you guys say from this point forward.

Oh, by the way, effective immediately I'll pee anywhere I damn well please.

There's gonna be some new rules around here. For starters, dinner will be in my bowl at exactly 5:00 pm. Not 5:01. Got that? All table scraps will be given to me, not the cat. If I ever see table scraps in the cat's dish the entire kitchen staff will be fired. Also, the cat doesn't eat until I'm finished. If she doesn't like that rule she's free to file a complaint from whatever shelter she ends up being dropped off at.

Another rule: No more petting. Lord only knows where your hands have been. Besides, I can recognize phoniness from a mile away so everybody can stop this whole "Who's a good dog?" charade. Like Leona, I'll leave money to whomever I want and kissing my ass isn't gonna put you higher up the list. Most of you kissed Leona's ass and how'd that work out for ya? I got 12 million and you got squat wrapped in a Life lesson - the lesson being: the world"s not fair. So let's stop all the pouting over who did and didn't get what. I'm talking to you, Nicholas. It's not my fault she left her chauffeur only a hundred grand. Suck it up. Look on the bright side - after taxes you can buy half a nice car. Now take off one of your shoes so I can chew on it.

And tell Butler Boy to get in here. I don't remember his name and I don't intend to learn it now-- Oh, there you are. I"ve got a new game we're gonna play: I drop this ball out this top floor window and you run down to the street to fetch it. Quick! Run, run, run... That's a good servant.

I'm gonna take a nap. By the time I get up I expect all the carpets to be replaced with sod. And when Butler Boy gets back, tell him to put a leash on the cat and take her for a walk. She hates that.